


The Efficiency Expert

by Verity (PenelopeGrace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Office, Cock Warming, Dildos, Enabled by Waffle, M/M, Office Sex, Piercings, Porn, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Smut, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeGrace/pseuds/Verity
Summary: Chief Financial Officer Victor Nikiforov has been submitting reports of poor quality. The Board of Directors sent Efficiency Expert Yuuri Katsuki to help.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 232





	The Efficiency Expert

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags.

Sometimes, a company would hire omegas to service their alpha employees. Many alphas would kill for a job with that specific perk. Literally. It’s all the employees could talk about when the Board of Directors of Feltsman Inc. passed the proposal to “improve the quality and concentration of their employees.” In other words, Feltsman Inc. has officially hired a reputable firm to increase the productivity of the workers. For the employees, this entails a nice cunt to warm their cocks and knots while they work. 

Victor, being very well-acquainted with omegas and other sexual partners of differing dynamics as the successful and attractive and youngish Chief Financial Officer, could barely muster up the urge to care even as the company email sends him an official notice that the omega is scheduled to arrive at 9am sharp. He can’t help but wonder at the clock of the many hours the omega must work before 5pm. Victor personally knows how much work sucks. 

A firm knock is the only warning he receives before someone rudely walks into his office without Victor's consent. Without looking up from his computer screen, Victor says, “I’m busy. Come back at another time.” 

“Mr. Nikiforov, this is the new company policy.” A smooth, confident voice stops Victor’s typing fingers. The door shuts with finality, and with it, the air flows to Victor, bringing the divine scent of an incredibly fertile omega. _Breed me, want me, have me,_ the scent says, screaming. _Look at me and never look away again._ The door locks, with a click, from the inside. 

His heart stills. Feeling hot underneath his suit, Victor slowly glances up, unable to breathe. _Blyad,_ he thinks, cursing inwardly. The omega is unfairly gorgeous. His blue-rimmed glasses poorly hide the beauty of his dark eyes, and the omega has his raven black hair neatly slicked back. A tan coat covers what Victor suspects to be an amazing fit body and does nothing to hide the omega’s bare legs and the elegant black leather pumps encasing his feet. 

Cocking his head, the omega introduces himself without needing any permission at all. “I’m Yuuri Katsuki. I’m an Efficiency Expert, Mr. Nikiforov.” He tsks at Victor, slowly moving around Victor’s desk. Unbuttoning his coat, he continues, “In their report to HR, the Board of Directors have felt that you’ve been underperforming at work.” 

Victor nearly misses everything the omega says. His brain has slipped out of the window at some point; he doesn't know. He’s enraptured by the pale pianist fingers slowly stripping off the coat. He barely passes a glance at the coat being tossed into an empty chair as Victor sucks in a deep breath. He has died. For certain. He can’t stop ogling at the omega’s outfit, at the many splendid ways a black leather vest with a deep plunge and obscenely tight dark laces and nothing else hugs the omega’s torso. There’s also the omega’s black leather skirt, hugging his hips so tight and hiding none of his curves. It's like it's been painted out. It’s not really a skirt, Victor realizes. It’s more like two pieces of leather laced together in a criss cross pattern. Created to maximize attention to the omega's perfect skin. 

A single sway of the omega’s hips draws Victor’s eyes to the beautiful pale skin winking at him through the laces taut on the sides of his thighs and hips. Victor suddenly feels very parched. 

The omega snaps his finger impatiently. “You’re not paying attention, Mr. Nikiforov. Allow me to repeat myself.” He seizes Victor’s jaw. “Stand up.”

It’s like the omega cast a spell on him and the only choice is to obey. 

Victor realizes the omega, with those wonderful expensive heels that simply accent his calves, is just as tall as he is. Victor, lost in those long dark lashes, sharply gasps at the omega’s touch, his fingers narrowly missing Victor's zipper and the hard visible bulge.

“Shh, Mr. Nikiforov. It’s company policy,” coyly remarks Yuuri, his hands unbuckling Victor’s belt. He slips underneath Victor’s pants, a smile dangerously curving his lips. “A thong? The poor thing could barely contain your cock. It’s about to break.” 

Victor is about to say something, when his mind goes deliciously blank. The omega wields a firm grip on Victor’s dick. Victor doesn’t know what to do with his hands, whether to grab the omega or to simply freeze and let the omega work. In this moment, he knows exactly what a deer feels like in the headlights. 

“Open and suck,” commands the omega. 

Hot fingers enter Victor’s mouth. He’s quick to realize he tastes slick. He wonders if it’s an aphrodisiac drug, because he does not ever want to stop sucking it off Yuuri’s fingers. 

Wait. Was Yuuri touching himself before he walked into Victor's office? Victor has so many questions, so many impatient questions he must ask. 

When Yuuri inevitably pulls away, the alpha feels bereft, as if he’s missing a part of his heart or soul. He couldn’t temper down a whine nor miss the sharpening curve of Yuuri’s lips. 

He's so dangerous.

Victor is drooling like a fool. He wants Yuuri to take him to the back alley behind this building and have his evil way with him. He wouldn't care if Yuuri got away with his wallet, heart, and social security number. He would have done anything Yuuri said under this spell. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Mr. Nikiforov.” So confident and sleek like a panther, Yuuri saunters onto the other side of Victor’s desk and flops into the chair with ease. “I will observe you as you work for the first hour. Afterwards, I will be taking a more hands-on approach. You may return to what you were doing before I arrived.” 

It takes more than a moment for Victor to recompose himself and to return to that report or email he’s been typing up. Maybe more than two moments. Maybe four minutes. Maybe five. He honestly can’t remember. The sheer power of this omega’s pheromones distracts his every thought, and it’s not like he could _forget_ that there’s a devastatingly beautiful omega wearing sexy black leather in his office. The hour is slow to creep by at first. Victor’s been guzzling his coffee down and then a cold bottle of water, so aware that the omega’s eyes are on his every move. 

He can’t possibly be an Efficiency Expert, thinks Victor. No one will be able to get _any_ work done. At all. 

He briefly wonders if he needs permission to leave his office, but then he leaves anyway. It's not like he's in high school and waiting for the teacher to grant the hall slip. The omega does not follow, thankfully. As Victor quickly dives into the nearest restroom, he relieves himself in a stall. Then he meets one of his coworkers at the sink. 

He hums happily. “Ah, Mr. Nikiforov. The omegas are great, aren’t they? They really boost morale.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. 

“Oh, don’t look so dour!” The CTO slaps Victor’s shoulder and leaves. 

Victor sighs, splashing cold water on his face. He’s slow to return to his office. Yuuri doesn’t say a word as he reenters. He sees that the omega is on his phone, casually texting or something. 

There’s a long moment of silence as Victor resumes his work. 

_Crack!_

The omega wields a black leather whip with a flat rectangular end. Victor has the sudden instinct to cross his legs and he does not know why. 

Where did the whip even come from? 

“Hour is over.” The omega strides around Victor’s desk. Perched on the edge, Yuuri Katsuki looks down on Victor with the most sadistic and _beautiful_ face known to man. “The IT department has cc me on all of your emails and reports, so I can see what you’re underperforming on.” 

In the back of his mind, Victor kind of wants to gut the IT department’s salaries now. He, after all, signs their paychecks and allocates their department budget. What happened to doing whatever the boss says? 

Yuuri turns and bends, giving a nice side view of his firm, perky ass wrapped in smooth leather. Practically laying his stomach on Victor’s desk, he casually types on the keyboard and pulls up the financial report Victor submitted just twenty minutes ago. 

"You misspelled that word, Mr. Nikiforov." With a deft flick of his left hand, Yuuri brings the whip cracking down on Victor's inner thigh, leaving a delicious brief sting. 

The alpha suppresses a yelp. He saves his reputation by releasing a slow breath out through his mouth. 

Yuuri goes through some more errors. "Your calculation is pitiful here. Reminds me of a new college intern writing up their first financial memos." 

_Crack!_

The alpha gasps, a sharp sound of ecstasy released. He freezes. 

The omega stares at him like an apex predator locking its eyes upon a prey. A sharp-eyed eagle finding a mouse to eat. He suddenly grabs Victor's tie and pulls him forward, pheromones overwhelming the alpha. 

Victor has no choice but to follow the tie, breathing in the thick, mesmerizing pheromones of the other man. He could stay in this moment forever. It would be so easy to. 

"Don't hold back. Show me every bit of yourself, Mr. Nikiforov," the omega murmurs. With a lethal smirk, he turns his spine to reach a hand down, down to Victor's fly. He easily pulls out the alpha's hard member, dripping precum, through the hole left by the open zipper. 

Victor almost wants to say the teeth of the zipper is sensitive upon his dick, but the omega thoughtfully unbuttons his fly, releasing his length without restraint. He's wordless now, as useful as a comatose patient. "Ah," he breathes out, struggling with his syllables. 

"What is with this calculation here?" The expert tightens his grip on Victor's tie and pulls his eyes closer to the computer monitor. "I have seen high school students do better financial calculus than this, Mr. Nikiforov." 

Victor doesn't even know what he's supposed to be looking at. He stiffens, his pulse racing when the omega suddenly sits up on the desk, releases Victor's tie, and thrust a heel right on top of Victor's manhood. 

He pushes down with his cold sole, the very stiletto forming a scratch mark in the office chair. "Are you sure you deserve to be the Chief Financial Officer, Mr. Nikiforov?" 

The heel is so cold against his dick, but his dick hardens, blood rushing to his nether regions. Victor gulps. He glances over that mistake, his brain somehow gathering enough power to recognize the problem, and his heart sinks. Never in the five years of working at Feltman Inc. has he ever made a silly little mistake in accounting like this before. This mistake must have been made when Victor briefly glanced up at the omega while computing formulas. His face flushes, but the omega is already scrolling down the financial report, on a hunt to find another one of Victor's mistakes. 

"Yes, and this one." The omega tsks, his heel pressing harder against Victor's dick, so hard that he could feel every line and pattern of Yuuri's sole. "My, my, my. This is even worse than I thought, Mr. Nikiforov. I haven't seen this kind of mistake in anyone but middle schoolers." 

His poor cock _thrives_ under the pressure. 

Victor has never felt this way before. He dreams of throwing Yuuri on the desk and yanking that taunting skirt up, so he can fuck him so deep and hard that the omega will know nothing else. He hungers for nail scratches down his back and the exacting traces of the bites he'll leave on the omega. He wants to take this beautiful creature home and let him prowl around his empty apartment to make it his home. He wants _Yuuri_ to build a nest and to never leave his heart. It's a sudden, overwhelming desire that has Victor so breathless underneath Yuuri's touch. 

It's an idea so gorgeous that he'll always be thinking about it for the rest of his life. 

He'll take it out from his box of memories every once in a while, remembering this moment where his instincts, purely primal, sang for this omega. He wants him in the way Nine Inch Nails sang "Closer," guttural and deep and _raw._ And on the other hand, he wants this omega to be the co-star in Taylor Swift music videos, forever and always together perfectly so in these moments. 

It's all getting too much. 

"I'm sorry," Victor chokes out, lifting away Yuuri's foot. He rushes to his office's doorway and turns, realizing he's incredibly rude to be leaving without an excuse. He squeaks, "I have to. . ." He pauses. "Bathroom!" 

_It's the worst excuse. Ever. Period._

He went like less than thirty minutes ago, and this only makes him look like an absolute moron in front of the hottest, most attractive man he's ever seen. And Victor is trying, he is trying so hard to get this the proper way and not through company policy. 

He is cursing himself as he mentally wills away his erection, hobbles desperately as he zips himself back up, and takes the elevator down to the Human Resources section of offices. Like all other good employees, Victor has his own go-to guy in Human Resources. It just happens to be Chris, the Director of HR and his occasional company for Happy Hour. 

He stops in front of Georgi's desk, which guards the Director from everyone else in the building. Or maybe protects everyone from the Director. Georgi, an alpha, surprisingly does not have an omega with him. It's probably because of his heartbroken rant about Anya. No omega would want to work with that even with a ten foot pole. 

"Is Chris in?" Victor asks. He must be somewhat desperate-looking, because Georgi picks up on it without notifying Chris. 

The Russian man raises an eyebrow. "Company policy?" 

"It's about it." Victor yanks at his tie and then unknots it. It's like he is not getting enough air or something along the lines. "Is Chris in, though?" 

"Omegas," Georgi sighs, hitting a button on his intercom. 

"Did company policy not work for you?" Victor asks politely, now that he knows he'll be speaking with Chris soon enough. 

"Nope." He pauses, sighing again like an old man suffering through a hard life. "She was not Anya." 

That is a can of worms Victor will not be opening. He has regrets in life. Listening to Georgi is one of them. 

"Georgi?" The intercom buzzes. "I'm in the middle of something. What do you want?" 

"It's Victor. He says he has an issue with company policy," Georgi explains, holding a button. 

The alpha sighs in reply. "Alright, send him in after a minute. I have a few more words to say to my model employee." 

It's like standing outside the Principal's office. People pass by once in a while and wonder why Victor is hanging outside of the Director's office instead of being sheltered in his corner office with a nice omega. They say hi politely and then whisper in groups in curiosity. It'll be spread around on the company's Skype in less than ten minutes. The great Victor Nikiforov, Chief Financial Officer, needing Human Resources. 

Victor couldn't care any less. 

He really needs to talk to Chris. 

The door opens, and the alpha grins at him. "Hey, Victor, come in. And Georgi, I need three sandwiches from that place across the coffee shop for lunch. One large tub of ice cream. Chocolate. Two bubble teas and one fine whiskey. The best one you can find in a thirty minute radius. Don't put the whiskey on the company card. It's on mine." 

"Yes, sir," Georgi confirms. 

Victor scans Chris' office. He makes no expression of surprise at the sight of Masumi, the Assistant Director of Human Resources. He does not bat an eye at the East Asian omega leaning against the window with only a scantily red lingerie set on with a matching garter belt and black Jimmy Choos. The omega texts away on his smartphone. He asks, "Is this one on one or are they all going to be here?" 

"Company policy. Because Phichit here knows Human Resources," Chris says, grinning and gesturing to the omega. "Phichit, this is our illustrious Chief Financial Officer. Victor, this is our Human Resources consultant." 

Victor makes a polite greeting and carries on with his business. "Chris," he says, cutting right to the topic at hand. "It's about company policy. Look, I don't know why Human Resources picked him, but I don't think I'm clicking with him. Or any expert. I don't need an expert." 

Chris sits at his desk. "Look, Victor. The Board of Directors are firm. They have felt there has been a decline in your quality. Upon their review and recommendations, an Efficiency Expert has been assigned to you." 

"I don't know how he is an Efficiency Expert." How can Yuuri Katsuki be? Every move, every twitch, every sigh simply draws attention. How could he focus on any report when he has Yuuri to stare at? 

"He's well-suited for you," Masumi interjects. 

"And he has never failed," Chris adds. "His employee record is impeccable. He graduated from Harvard with an MBA at the top of his class with a perfect GPA, specializing in accounting and finance. He's been doing this for years. He has a perfect success rate. He's not as lost as you may think, Victor. He's an excellent consultant." 

Victor only sees red. Irrational, insane red. 

_He's been doing this for years._

_He has a perfect success rate._

Is it too greedy to keep Yuuri Katsuki then? Selfish? He has seen the most perfect omega ever, and said omega has a stellar career. Is it selfish to want to give ten babies and an expensive winter wedding and the world to lay at the omega's feet? 

Victor inhales. "But he is a consultant." 

Chris stares knowingly at the alpha, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He, like Victor, knows the old company policy on fraternizing between coworkers and bosses or even between coworkers. It's a hard no unless they are married. Chris purrs, "Yes, he's only a consultant. We hire the firm. The firm assigns us consultants to help with our productivity." 

"He's not an employee of Feltsman, then?" 

"Nope," Chris answers, his lips popping out the syllables with emphasis. "So I recommend you go back to your office before you accidentally ruin his perfect record." 

The omega in the corner, Phichit, only seems to be texting even faster. The clicks and sounds of the keyboard is the only thing Victor here in the silence. 

Victor knows a dismissal when he hears one. 

In a daze, Victor walks back to his office. He stops by long enough to use the restroom while dodging his cheerful coworkers talking nothing but praise about the omega workers. Victor is not hearing any of the exact works. He's about to head back into his office when the Chief Information Officer stops him in his attack. 

Yuri Plisetsky only looks angry, which is a common expression on him. Victor has known him since he was a teenager. They used to be neighbors. 

"We are going for lunch," announces Yuri, giving no room for excuses. The slim alpha grabs Victor by the arm, yanking him back to the elevator. "I don't want to hear a word about how your company policy worked successfully on you. We are going to talk about Human Resources' ridiculous choice for a consultant." 

Victor shoots one longing look at his corner office, but he lets himself be dragged away. He's hungry, too. Maybe Yuuri will forgive him if he brings some lunch back? 

Yuri has a standing reservation at the bar and restaurant across the street. He used to work there as a bartender before Victor got him this job. He waves for two glasses of the cheapest, least alcoholic beverage in the house. Then more politely to the waitress as he sits down in the booth, he says, "One salad, one water with no ice. I don't know what this aging dinosaur behind me wants." 

The waitress politely smiles and turns to Victor with a raise of her brow. 

Oh, yes. Victor has to act like a functioning member of society at times. Glancing around at the other patrons for ideas, he rattles off, "Sandwich. House special. Lemonade with ice. Freshly squeezed." Then to Yuri as he sinks to the booth, he repeats, "Aging dinosaur? Then what is Yakov?" 

"A fossil," Yuri savagely answers, pulling out his phone and flicking through the screen. 

"Did you have your people cc Yuuri Katsuki on all the reports I send to our CEO and Board of Directors?" Victor wonders aloud. 

"Nope. I did it myself." 

That's it. He wants to gut his salary now, but Human Resources will throw a fit about it. So he forces a smile that probably belongs more to a slasher movie and replies tensely, "I see." 

Yuri blows a strand of blond hair away. "What? Are you not happy with him?" The other alpha angrily hisses, "He's a few years older than me, but he is very good at what he does." 

Victor spit-takes. He's coughing lemonade up, and he can't get the picture out of his brain. He abhors the idea of Yuuri dressed in sleek lines of leather while lounging over Yuri Plisetsky. He wants to hit something hard, and it's absolutely irrational. It's not like he has any claims over the omega. 

"No!" Yuri shrieks, once he reviews what he said. "No, gross! That's not what I meant." He is blushing red, as red as the tomato he grows in his apartment window. "Fuck, who the hell do you think I am? He is really good, top of his class at Harvard. He was in his last year when I was in undergrad. He gave me some tutoring. I absolutely did not touch him or interact with him in his current career choice!" His ears flame. "Fuck, why the hell are we talking that man? I invited you out to lunch today so we can talk about my problem." 

Victor does not point out that it's more like Yuri forced him out to lunch. Yuri will probably blow off the roof in sheer rage if he was poked any further. Rolling his eyes, Victor goes back to the more important topic. "So what is the problem with company policy?" 

Yuri mutters a thanks to the waitress placing a plate of salad in front of him. He angrily stabs a lettuce. 

Victor feels sorry for the lettuce. 

"His name is Otabek. He sits in the corner of my office and types all the time. He brought a laptop and has control over my Google docs." 

Victor doesn't understand. He nods, pretending he does. "Control over your Google docs." 

"He leaves the most obnoxious comments!" Yuri roars, pulling out his phone. It is open to the company's Google doc account and to some sort of report. Yuri pulls up a list of comments an Otabek Altin left. "Look at this! Read this! Read any of this! This is maddening!" 

Victor leans in over his sandwich and squints. The omega has highlighted some words and sentences in certain sections, always leaving a comment that is less than two words. Victor doesn't see the point. "Yes, maddening," he repeats, hoping Yuri will let him go soon. 

"You don't understand why he's so obnoxious," the other alpha accuses. "You think he's perfect. Just like how Human Resources think he's great." 

"Ah, I do see why he's obnoxious." 

"No, you don't. He highlights some random words and suggests corrections to make. . ." Yuri reddens, but mostly out of rage. "He wants me to use better vocabulary that is not technically difficult to understand." 

Well, Otabek has a point. Yuri Plisetsky really has to stop using fancy vocabulary that no one but his own department understands. Victor has fallen asleep many times while reading Yuri's reports and analysis of their competitors. 

Victor cheerfully says, "Then he's doing a great job." 

"Not you too!" 

Tossing a wad of cash onto the table, Victor takes his sandwich to go and runs before Yuri can force him to drink the beer during their lunch hour. He's already behind on his work, and he needs to submit a few more reports before the Board of Directors or the CEO think he has been goofing off with the omega instead of doing anything proper. 

He rushes back to his office, barging back in to see the omega typing away at Victor's computer. 

Still dressed in leather, Yuuri Katsuki pushes his glasses up, his eyes hooded behind the lenses. "Mr. Nikiforov. Did you have a nice lunch break?" 

Victor holds the sandwich baggie and a cup of lemonade in his other hand. He feels like a complete asshole for leaving Yuuri in his office with a horrible excuse. He scans his watch, noting the time. It is already one o'clock. Somehow a lot of time has passed by already. 

"Sit down, Mr. Nikiforov. And put the bag on your desk." 

Victor's heart slows. Every second seems like electricity, sparks flying off. His breath catches as he obeys perfectly, and he can't help but stare at the omega's perfect backside when Yuuri stands to examine the contents of the baggie in the most obscene way possible, by bending over Victor's desk and sticking out his plump ass enticingly. Does he know what effect he has on Victor? 

Victor's pants is so tight. 

Yuuri tsks at the sandwich. "So you haven't eaten any lunch. What were you doing then? You were gone for over an hour. That's not productive, Mr. Nikiforov." 

The alpha remembers the excuse he gave to Yuuri. "Bathroom," he chokes out weakly. 

"You drink a lot, Mr. Nikiforov." 

"I like to stay hydrated." 

There is a dangerous glint in Yuuri's eyes, or maybe it's the reflection of the fluorescent lights. He purrs, "Mr. Nikiforov, I came prepared. You didn't have to leave your office at all." With a swivel of Victor's fancy office chair, he spins and opens the mini fridge with the tip of his shoes. Two boxes are placed neatly against four bottles of chilled water. "See? No need to go anywhere." 

Were those things always there? Or did Yuuri leave Victor's office at some point to fetch new water bottles? Victor doesn't remember leaving his fridge that full. And he definitely doesn't remember having bento boxes on his shelves. 

The omega clears Victor's chair. With a soft smirk playing on his lips, he orders, "Sit down, Mr. Nikiforov. We have a lot of work to catch up. The Board of Directors wants to see the payroll reports by the end of today." He stands, leaning against Victor's desk as his eyes stalk the alpha. 

Victor dutifully loads the financial reports for the payroll. It involves a summary and then a lot of calculations. At the end, the payroll taxes and federal withholdings are involved, and Victor, who knows how to do these reports in his sleep, finds his mind deliciously blank when the omega moves to stand behind him, hands snaking down Victor's skewed tie and wrinkled suit jacket. 

It goes down, down, down. Until it pauses at Victor's belt and unbuckled smoothly. The omega unzips, stroking Victor's dick and purring straight into the alpha's ear. "Are you hungry? You did miss eating lunch, Mr. Nikiforov." 

"No," Victor lies. His fingers return to the keyboard, desperately typing. He settles into the familiar patterns of numbers, but out of the corner of his eye, he watches every movement of one Yuuri Katsuki, Efficiency Expert. He sighs disappointedly when Yuuri withdraws his hands from his hard, leaking cock. 

Victor misses a key when he hears Yuuri opening the sandwich. His heart stops at the lewd sight of Yuuri's opening, red mouth, the orifice stretching beautifully wide to swallow the sandwich. Victor's sandwich. Victor should be offended, but he can't help himself. He _has_ to watch Yuuri Katsuki enjoying a nice cucumber, liver-infused, Vietnamese-styled sandwich with all the expression of pleasure spreading across his face. He is so fired from his job, but as Chris may sometimes say, that ass is _so_ worth it. 

"Hungry, Mr. Nikiforov?" The omega asks, after swallowing. He smirks knowingly and stalks around the desk, bending over to pull out a few bottles of water and a bento box. "No worries. Eat while you work." 

Victor has no idea what he is eating from the bento box. He has no idea what numbers he's even _entering_ in the software. He could be inflating the numbers for all he knows. He guzzles down water desperately, just to give himself something to do instead of overtly staring at Yuuri. He drinks _a lot of_ water. He's so thirsty that he can't help himself. He is so useless. 

Victor's hand reaches into the bento box, finding it empty. He has somehow eaten everything inside without noticing a thing. What did he even eat?

"Still hungry, Mr. Nikiforov?" Yuuri asks, his dark eyes glinting. 

There is no reason to hide it, to disguise the truth from the clever omega. He finally admits, "Yes." The truth comes out softly, merely a whisper in the pheromone-soaked air between them. 

Yuuri smiles, victoriously. His hips gently sway as he moves to Victor's side of the desk. A warm hand brushes the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow across the alpha's cheeks. His voice pitched low, he purrs, a declaration, "I will never let you starve, Mr. Nikiforov." He turns and moves aside the piles of paperwork to the floor, uncaring of their importance. He firmly seats himself in the newly cleared space and lays down on his back, his skirt bunching up so much that Victor stares, rapt, at the flesh underneath the fabric, revealing itself by the centimeters. 

The pheromones are even stronger now, alluring and seductive. Victor's eyes blink, once and then twice in shock. The omega wears absolutely nothing underneath his skirt. 

"Eat, Mr. Nikiforov," Yuuri commands, lifting his heels and shoes up to the desk and spreading himself for Victor's convenience. 

Victor inhales, breathing in the pheromones of the slick leaking down to his desk. 

"On your knees, Mr. Nikiforov. Off the chair." 

The alpha's knees obey without a second thought. It's even better like this, where the height difference is negligible. Victor only needs to lean forward to lick up the puffy, pink folds surrounding a. . . 

There is a pink base nestled in between the omega's folds. Slick seeps out even with the object buried deeply in the omega's hole. 

"I see you have noticed the dildo, Mr. Nikiforov," Yuuri purrs, only deep amusement in his voice. "But I'm so loose that my slick can't help but leak out. Why don't you eat? You're still hungry, aren't you?"

He is. He is ravenous. 

He plants his tongue on the puffy lips, his hands instinctively moving to grip Yuuri's thighs. The burst of flavor invigorates him, and he desperately sucks the folds and gathers the slick onto his tongue, eating like a starving man wandering a desert for days without water. Yuuri's dick bobbles carelessly against Victor's forehead. His tongue slips in between the dildo, diving inside of Yuuri. In a daze, he realizes Yuuri is correct. He is _loose,_ so loose. He pulls out the base of the hot pink dildo with his teeth, basking in the loud, unapologetic cries of the omega. 

He pushes the dildo back in with his mouth, the thick thighs around him nearly crushing his head. He licks a hot line around Yuuri's hole, gathering the slick. When he pulls the dildo out again, his teeth carefully gripping the edges of the silicon, he shuts his eyes in time, just as a squirt of slick splatters across his cheek. 

“Wow,” Victor breathes. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly fall in love with him any deeper, this happens. “You’re incredible.” 

Yuuri blushes, suddenly uncertain for the first time all day. Glowing, he slowly informs in between breaths, “I sometimes do that. . . I hope you don’t mind. You have some slick on your hair, Mr. Nikiforov.” 

“That’s fine,” Victor says, woozy at that thought. He sometimes does that? He should do that a lot more than just _sometimes._ Victor would like to be there all the times he squirts. Like, he would enjoy seeing it. Immensely. “I liked it.” 

Yuuri smiles at that, unfailingly sweet. 

Victor marvels at the smile, the relaxed face of the omega on the desk. What he would give to keep this omega smiling like that. Victor breathes out and blurts, “Did you have the dildo in you all day?” 

Yuuri smirks. “Well, Mr. Nikiforov,” he chirps brightly, slipping back into his professional mode, “I’m quite insatiable.” 

There is absolutely no way Victor will survive a day with Yuuri, much less for the entirety of the company policy’s period of effectiveness. He will die, but he will die with the most ridiculous smile on his face and the most embarrassing coroner’s report in history. He wouldn’t care, because the cause of death is one many people should and will kill for. One Yuuri Katsuki, Efficiency Expert. 

The rest of the hour slips by quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, Victor watches Yuuri rearrange himself and fixes his skirt. He continues with the payroll calculations and then does a little bit of reading on the current IRS policies. It’s usually boring work, but Victor finds himself energized by Yuuri’s presence. He downs one bottle of water, his tongue occasionally slipping out to the corners of his lips and finding faint traces of Yuuri’s delicious slick. 

It is after the second finished bottle when Victor stands up from his chair. 

“What are you doing, Mr. Nikiforov?” Yuuri asks, his eyeglasses rest low on the bridge of his nose. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Restroom,” Victor answers, the truth this time. 

“No.”

The alpha freezes. No? 

“You have gone to the restroom approximately three times, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri guesses, pushing back stray black strands of his hair. The hair gel is not working as well as it was in the morning, and Yuuri hasn’t reapplied. “As the Efficiency Expert, I must cut down on the amount of times you use the restroom.” 

“But—” 

No further protests fall out of the alpha’s lips. Yuuri pushes him down back in the chair, sinking onto the alpha’s lap. The omega plants two fingers against Victor’s lips and orders, “No, Mr. Nikiforov. You must learn to control yourself. Or have your bathroom breaks limited anyway. It does not help your efficiency.” 

With Yuuri’s back pressed against Victor’s chest and his weight settled against Victor’s bladder and the tantalizing pheromones Victor breathes in straight from the scent gland on the side of Yuuri’s neck, it is impossible for the alpha to think or even to move. He’s helpless underneath this omega, forced to watch as Yuuri unzips a hidden zipper on his skirt. The leather skirt bunches up around his waist, revealing his hard cock and the slick dripping down slowly, coating his thighs. 

Victor silently curses. He must go, he can go, he _should_ go, but maybe, just maybe, he can hold it for Yuuri. He wants to see this, this show and performance the omega puts on. He doesn’t want to miss this at all. 

Reaching down, Yuuri sighs and gasps as he draws the hot pink dildo out of his hole, every inch slow as the musky scent of slick thickens in the air. He carelessly drops the dildo onto the table, right next to Victor’s financial calculator. A trail of slick connects the addition button to the dildo, all pink with fake veins for added pleasure. 

He is never going to look at that calculator in the same way. Ever again. 

Yuuri throws his head back, his neck pressing against Victor’s nose. He grips Victor’s erect member, lining it up to the swollen entrance of his slicked hole. He moans loudly as every inch slowly slips between Yuuri’s folds and the tight, hot heat of the omega’s body. Loose? That’s what Yuuri said earlier. He’s definitely not loose at all. 

“Oh, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri sighs in delight. “You’re far thicker and bigger than my dildo.” 

An irrational, primal side basks in the face of Yuuri’s praise. Yes, he satisfies this omega. Yes, he _pleases_ his omega so well. Pushing his nose against the omega’s scent gland, he purrs in content at Yuuri and nearly misses the next order. 

“Now work, Mr. Nikiforov.” 

Victor can’t hold back the loud whine of protest arising from his throat. He pulls his face away from Yuuri’s neck, his eyes refocusing on the computer screen. It has fallen to sleep. He shakes the mouse, tensing as Yuuri’s walls rhythmically squeezes around his length. He can’t possibly work like this. But somehow, he does, inputting numbers here and there. He reads a book of references, and Yuuri occasionally chimes in, giving him the correct numbers. He is still making an embarrassing number of mistakes, but Yuuri’s whip is nowhere to be seen. 

And every time he does a calculation correctly, Yuuri squeezes him, pelvic muscles massaging him and throwing the alpha off balance. He begins to learn to hunger for them, the tiny wonderful pressure around his cock, the pleasure Yuuri briefly allows him. He is reminded of Pavlov’s dogs, which were trained to salivate every time they hear the bell ring. Victor is like that. Instead of salivating, he’s learning to find great pleasure every time he does a calculation or writes a sentence correctly. 

When Victor reaches the bottom of the report, finally finishing the bothersome payroll report, he sighs and does editing. A double check, even though Yuuri’s eyes are better than Victor’s own. The final submission earns Victor a heady roll of Yuuri’s hips. 

"Fuck me, Mr. Nikiforov, come in me," Yuuri demands, reaching around to grip Victor's hair. 

Victor doesn't need a handwritten invitation. He seizes Yuuri's hips, all the pent up energy drumming through his veins. He thrusts up, babbling at the tight, slicked heat enveloping him. "You're so good, fuck. So tight, Yuuri. I want to fill you up." 

Yuuri bounces on Victor's lap, slick pooling on Victor's pants as he hoists the skirt even higher up his waist. His ass is curvy, so round that Victor couldn't resist palming the smooth skin and rolling the flesh in between his finger tips. He writhes, his leather vest loosening under the omega's fingertips. 

The alpha nips at Yuuri's bare shoulder, hands greedily touching everything Yuuri has to offer. His eyes, blown wide, marvel at the creature on his lap. 

Yuuri strips off his leather vest, finally shirtless. It's obscene, a nearly naked omega in the lap of a fully dressed alpha holding all the power in his palm. 

Victor growls, lavishing praise. "You're so beautiful, Yuuri. Fuck, so tight." 

The omega throws his chest out, and what Victor sees is nearly enough to permanently stop his heart. 

He gasps at the silver nipple piercings encasing the red-pink nubs. Fuck, he's in so deep, literally and figuratively. He wants to carve a place so deep inside Yuuri so he'll never leave. He wants to mold a piece of himself in the omega, filling him up so well that Yuuri will never forget him. 

A wet pool of slick forms on Victor's expensive pants, the omega in his arms relaxing in the aftermath of his climax. But Victor is not done yet. He's not satisfied yet. He thrusts into Yuuri, his fingers rough and leaving faint marks on the omega's skin. His knot forms, expanding into a plug that will keep everything inside of Yuuri’s hole, succeeding where the dildo fails at. All of Yuuri’s slick, all of Victor’s seed. 

He relaxes, nuzzling the omega in his lap as the knot ties them both together. He almost wants to fall asleep, so content to be buried in Yuuri. He loves this, he wants to knot Yuuri, so they’ll stay together for half an hour, no place else to escape. 

The problem arises a few minutes after the knotting, rearing its head with a vengeance. Victor could hold it no longer. He can’t, no matter how hard he tries. 

Victor gasps, blushing so hard that his ears are turning red. The muscles around his bladder unwillingly relax, and a steady stream of hot liquid frees itself from Victor, the muscles clenching around Victor’s dick only encouraging. 

“Shhh,” Yuuri whispers, reassuringly patting the alpha’s thigh. “Let it go. Let it all go, Mr. Nikiforov.” 

Victor wants to weep in sheer relief at the release. It’s nearly as good as the orgasm. Almost as good. Definitely not as good as the brief intimacy they shared before Victor has gone and ruined it with this. 

By the time Victor’s knot shrinks, Yuuri slowly slides off the alpha’s dick, not even a drop of anything slipping out of his hole. There is a noticeable bulge, full of seed and Victor's accidental offering. He stands up, hips tilting. Looking five months pregnant, he points out, “It’s five o’clock now, Victor.” 

It is? But. . . 

Victor stares at Yuuri with longing, watching the omega stuff the pink dildo into his coat pocket. Yuuri moves slowly, his motions careful.

He has one foot out the door, and the omega is about to leave. 

"Yuuri," Victor calls out, meeting the omega's eyes. "Are you available after hours? I'm not very efficient at home." 

Yuuri smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> 6969 challenge? Completed.


End file.
